


tense

by debacle



Series: to remake the wonder [2]
Category: Marvel 616, Young Avengers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-01
Updated: 2012-09-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 07:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/501003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debacle/pseuds/debacle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate acts on impulse, for the first time in a long time. She's pretty sure she deserves it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tense

**Author's Note:**

> (or, Clint Barton's Dick Either Does or Does Not Help Kate Bishop Make a Decision)
> 
> this is-  
> there's a reason I don't write smut,  
> and I am so,   
> so sorry for inflicting this upon you.

"When I said I would teach you some tricks," Clint says, "This ain't what I had in mind."

Kate grins. She is cataloging his responses – now, specifically, he isn't removing her from his lap, which he could easily do (just lift her by the hips and set her down somewhere else, and oh, God, she's thinking about his hands now and she needs them on her and she needs to _stop thinking about that_ but she hasn't been able to for a week and that's why she's in this situation anyway).Instead, he's just looking at her like she's a mystery, a particularly complicated question, not a girl straddling his thighs, but –

When she kisses him, he kisses back, and he hasn't pushed her away, so she's not counting this as a loss just yet.

Clint breathes out too fast to be nonchalant when Kate rocks her hips; he acts all unaffected anyway, says, "I gotta tell you, girl, I don't know what the hell is going on."

_Neither do I_ , Kate thinks, but really, she has some idea – she's indulging an impulse, which is probably just a reaction to spending weeks thinking and weighing pros and cons and attempting to make a decision like an adult. She thinks she deserves to make at least one decision like a horny teenager, considering she's somewhere between the two.

Kate's brain snaps together a sentence and it tumbles out of her mouth like so: "Would it be helpful if I explained it to you?"

Clint opens and closes his mouth. He clears his throat. "Might help."

"Well, for starters," Kate says, "I'm pretty much dry-humping you on your couch."

"Yeah, I noticed that." Clint has finally taken the initiative and done something with his goddamn hands, Kate is pleased to note, although they're still just sort of resting passively on her hips. She'll take it. Clint says, "I was hopin' for somethin' a little more insightful."

Kate rocks her hips again, this time like she means it. Her hands on his shoulders, she leans in so her face is by his and her mouth is close to his ear. "I thought about you fucking me every night for the past week," she says. "And there was nothing I could do about it at Tommy's place. I figured I needed to find somewhere private to get off or –" She grinds down and his quick intake of breath just encourages her. "Or I could aim a little higher."

"Uh-huh." Clint tilts his head back, his cheek brushing hers, his stubble rough against her skin. "You thought about –"

"You. Fucking me. And I don't mean I dreamed it, I mean, I was actively thinking about it. In vivid detail." This isn't hot, Christ, she's rambling and she should just shut her mouth but this isn't even dirty talk, it's full disclosure. "I can't help it, Clint, what am I s'posed to do? The other day, you were just walking around without a shirt on and, I mean, I was looking, of course I was – God, the way your jeans fit is obscene, you know that?" Her voice is taking on this high-pitched, desperate tone and she swallows, breathes, _Jesus, Kate, this was supposed to go so much smoother._

Clint's hands haven’t moved from her hips, his thumbs stroking the skin just underneath her shirt. Kate can hear him swallow, hard, and he says, "Well. That's – uh, I'm feeling pretty enlightened right about now." He presses down with his thumbs, his hands moving with her rolling hips. "What else you got?"

Kate laughs, leaning back to look at his face. "What, d'you get off on hearing how hot you are?"

He rolls his eyes and dips his head to bite at her neck, and she gasps and keeps talking because she can't figure out what else to do. "I've spent so long studying your hands, I think I know them as well as mine," she says. "And I mean, as far as hands go, they're – _God_ , I don't know, I can't get them out of my head, alright, can't get any part of you out of my head. I want your hands on me so bad it hurts to think about it, your hands, your – your _mouth_ –" His mouth, which has featured just as heavily in her thoughts for the past week, is busy marking up the skin of her neck, and she knows she's gonna have to explain that to the guys but she can't find it in her to care.

She can feel his hardon through his jeans, and fuck if that isn't satisfying.

"Okay, okay," Clint says, pushing Kate back by her shoulders. "What kind of man would I be if I denied such a pretty girl her Christmas wish?"

_It's June,_ Kate tries to say, but it comes out like a fucking whimper, and she can't figure out if she's more turned on or embarrassed. Her head is swimming a little bit, and her disorientation isn't really helped by the fact that Clint just sort of stands up with her wrapped around his waist; she yelps in surprise and he laughs. "I just figured a change of venue was in order," he says. "Unless your elaborate fantasies all take place on the couch –"

"S'fine," she mumbles into his neck and he laughs again. She'd hit him if she weren't so preoccupied.

He attempts to put her down on the bed without dropping her and it only sort of works, but she doesn't have time to think about it – he's already peeling off her shirt and ducking his head to kiss his way from her jaw to her neck to her collarbone and _fuck_ , alright, maybe she's a little touch-starved because everything he does drives her half-insane.

He traces a line down her chest with his lips and tongue and teeth, and he brushes a finger over the lacy cup of her bra, saying, "Aw, did you wear this just for me?"

Kate blushes, which she finds a little surprising as her cheeks were already burning – this isn't how she meant for it to go, although it might actually be better. She'd let him do just about anything to her if he asked – well, not _anything_ , but a hell of a lot more than she'd be willing to suggest.

She's a fucking mess and he's unclasping her bra, she shrugs out of it and he tosses it unceremoniously onto the floor. When she lies back his mouth drops to her chest again, he presses kisses to both of her breasts and then sucks one of her nipples into his mouth and she – she kind of _squeaks_ , which she's going to have to add to her list when she makes a chart to compare the ways in which this evening has been both mortifying and amazing.

Clint has to have noticed, because he looks up at her and smiles, then he lifts the back of her head and tangles his fingers in her hair, coming up to kiss her slow and sweet. His free hand moves down to unbutton her jeans, and Kate grabs his wrist. "Are you noticing a discrepancy here, or is it just me?"

Clint glances down at himself, still fully clothed, and shrugs, sitting up on his knees. Kate insistently tugs on the hem of his shirt and helps him out of it, and she drags her hand down his chest, over his abs; she bites her lip, admiring. She rubs her palm against his cock straining against his jeans and he hisses a breath. Kate laughs, unbuttoning and unzipping and then he bats her hand away, moving out of her reach.

He tugs at her jeans until her she lifts her hips and lets him pull them down. Once he drops them off the side of the bed, he pushes her knees up and apart, leaves a trail of kisses down the inside of her thigh, makes his way down, down and then looks up at her. He presses his palm against her – his hand feels cool through the fabric, but it's probably because she's flushed so warm – and rubs, firm pressure, and Kate shudders, sure she's going to either explode or dissolve. "Clint," she says. " _Please._ "

Clint smirks and hooks his fingers into the elastic, Kate moves to help him – as far as she's concerned, she can't get out of her panties fast enough – and as soon as one of his fingers brushes over her clit she whimpers. At this point, there's no way it'll take very long. Clint eases one finger inside her, then another _– oh, fuck –_ he swipes his tongue across her clit, presses his mouth to her and sucks – _oh_ _fuck oh fuck oh fuck_ – and Kate would love to give him time to show off his apparently flawless technique but she's never needed the release so badly in her life. When she comes she sees stars, her thighs squeeze together so hard that after a second she's a little bit worried, but once she stops seeing double she can see Clint grinning at her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He licks his fingers clean, and Kate's mind says _what_ but the rest of her says _alright, yeah, that's kind of hot_. She isn't sure why, but she'll work on that later.

"Do you still wanna –"

"I didn't come here to half-ass this," Kate says, smiling, and Clint nods and produces a condom from fucking nowhere _._ Kate contemplates whether or not that might be a secret superpower, but it's probably just a skill developed from much practice. "You need to get naked," she adds, feeling empowered by her orgasm, dumb as that sounds, more confident than she'd been earlier.

Clint gives her a sarcastic salute and shimmies out of his jeans and underwear, and maybe Kate's staring again, but what else is she supposed to do? He kneels over her again, but she pushes him until he rolls over onto his back – "Okay, okay," he says, grinning. Kate rolls the condom on (a little awkwardly, but she finds that she doesn't even care anymore) and positions herself over him. "Go for it, girly-girl," he says, and the old nickname stirs something in her chest – it's affectionate, if stupid. She ignores the feeling (at least she tries).

She lowers herself onto him, and God _,_ it feels amazing. She flattens her palms on his chest and rolls her hips slowly; he's got his fists balled up in the comforter, and when she moves faster he starts to talk – not saying anything coherent, just words, _God, Kate, fuck, baby, God, yes_. Eventually she just leans forward, kissing him hard, and he tangles his fingers in her hair, thrusts his hips upward, sucks on her bottom lip and she moans against his mouth. The two of them are a tangle of arms and hands and Kate could stay like this forever, except she can't, and she's still kissing him when he comes and pulls her hair a little too hard. She winces and he looks at her apologetically, but she just smiles – "S'alright, Clint, it's okay." – and he strokes her hair for a moment before she actually rolls off of him.

It's probably a good idea to leave, she thinks, and makes up her mind to do so while he's cleaning up.

She stays the night anyway.

-

"So, what, you're sleeping with Clint Barton now?"

Kate grimaces, rubbing her neck. There was really no way around them finding out, so she didn't even try to hide the marks on her skin, but the looks on their faces make her want to go back in time and invest in some particularly good makeup. "'Sleeping with' implies that it's happening regularly," she says. "I slept with him. Past tense."

"I don't know why everyone's all surprised," Tommy says, and the shit-eating grin plastered across his face is giving Kate a headache. "I mean, I figured it was gonna happen like a day after she decided to stay the summer." Tommy tilts his head up in faux-arrogance, or what may be real arrogance – with Tommy, especially now, it's difficult to tell. "'Course, not everyone has my intuition."

"Oh, shove it," Kate says. "Isn't there something more important we could be talking about?"

Teddy, Billy, and Tommy all exchange glances, shrug and shake their heads. "Nah," Billy says.

Teddy says, "I can't think of anything."

"So," Billy says, grinning – Kate's glad to see a smile on his face, but she wishes the circumstances were different. "Past tense, huh?"

Teddy pulls Billy closer to him, smiling too. "Is that what you want?"

Kate scowls. "It was stupid. I don't regret it, but it was stupid, so, yeah, I intend to keep it in the past."

There's a small chorus of _sure, okay, whatever you say_ and Kate sighs. In the future, she's gonna have to keep her sex life, should it exist, to herself.

-

Things don't get awkward between Kate and Clint, which she counts as a blessing. Maybe he looks at her a little differently, but Kate can't tell if she's imagining that or not. In general, though, it's all the same – she comes over to his place to talk and to practice, he nods appreciatively when it becomes obvious that Kate's finally getting close to where she used to be, which is very nearly as good as he is (nearer than most, at least).

One night, Kate stays too late to really justify going back to Tommy's, so she sleeps over. She sleeps on the couch, of course, and it's all perfectly innocent. She has restraint, she has self-control.

In the morning, Kate observes how good he looks with his messy hair and his heavy eyelids. She kisses him against the refrigerator. He fucks her over the counter. Kate is surprisingly okay with this development; she never really prided herself on her restraint anyhow. Something falls off and breaks, and Kate makes sounds she didn't even know her vocal cords were capable of producing.

While trying to determine what to do with her hands, Kate has three distinct thoughts:

One: whatever he's doing is awesome, god _damn_ , and he should keep doing that.

Two: if this is New York for her now, she doesn't ever want to leave.

Three: she is starting to prefer the present tense to the past.

There's probably a connection there. Sleeping together, slept together. Superhero, former superhero. Now's not the time to figure that out, Kate thinks; she'll explore that when she's capable of coherent thought.

The future's a question mark, but the present is fantastic. 


End file.
